The Bourne Dossier
by Badr
Summary: A series of drabbles based mostly on the Bourne movies, Identity through Ultimatum, with one or two tie ins to the books.  Rated mainly for violence.
1. Blank

**Author's note: I saw Ultimatum last night, and it was basically amazing. I'm even more in love with Jason than ever. Sigh. ****Anyway, seeing it provoked me into a drabble-writing frenzy today; I'll not be posting them all at once because I have a lot and don't want to overwhelm anyone. My method: Open dictionary to a random page, search the page for a word that strikes me, and write a drabble with that word in mind. I usually try to use the first word I see, but it doesn't always work out.**

**This drabble is from Nikki's point of view in Ultimatum. Word: Blank.**

* * *

I stare at him across the table, my inner psychologist scrutinizing the sharp planes of his face, searching. "You really don't remember anything?" The surprise in my tone is evident. 

Jason levels those cool eyes, the color of ice or rain, at me, his expression calculating, expectant. Blank. He gazes at me for a moment.

"No." Dismissive.


	2. Effortless

**Jason's point of view in Ultimatum, making the choice to commit fully to the training program. Word: Effortless.**

* * *

It was so easy—almost anticlimactic. The body in the corner twitched slightly upon impact, then sagged limply against its bindings.

David—

Jason Bourne lowered the gun, eased his finger from the trigger, marveled at the feeling.


	3. Tentative

**Marie's point of view in Identity during the hotel scene. Word: Tentative.**

* * *

Marie had not expected him to be gentle. She had expected him to take control, perhaps; insistent, demanding. She had imagined rough hands, maybe even a little bruising, after.

But as always he surprised her—proceeding slowly and tenderly, almost hesitant. As though he wanted her permission, as though he were unsure of her or even of himself; vulnerable, considerate.

She watched him sleep for a long time, wondering how such a direct and decisive man could secretly possess so much sweet tentativeness.


	4. Girl

**Marie's point of view, sometime between Identity and Supremacy. Word: Girl.**

* * *

Wrapped in his arms one night, Marie turned her face to gaze up at her lover and asked curiously, "Was there ever another girl—you know, before?"

Silence. "I don't know."

Marie sighed, a soft sound. "There must have been." She chuckled, struck with a sudden thought. "Otherwise you might have been a virgin when I first met you."

Silence.

Jason raised his eyebrows, shrugged, looked away.


	5. Vibration

**The Professor's point of view (the assassin in Identity who went after Jason in the field). Word: Vibration.**

* * *

I feel the cell phone vibrate in my coat pocket, the call to arms, to destruction, to blood. Every time I answer it feels just a tiny bit heavier, and a part of me always wonders which treacherous vibration is going to be the one that leads me to my own death. 


	6. Thoughtless

**Jarda's point of view (Jason's fellow Treadstone agent in Supremacy, when Jason comes to his house). Word: Thoughtless.**

* * *

"You still should have moved," Bourne murmurs absently. Silently, I agree.

How thoughtless of me to have believed the rumors of his death—as if Bourne, always the best of all of us, could actually be killed.


	7. Freeze

**Jason's point of view in Ultimatum, escorting the reporter through the back hallways of the station. Word: Freeze.**

* * *

Registering a glint of light off of something in the corner as he went to retrieve the astonished, terrified reporter, Jason glanced up. And froze.

The metallic eye of the security camera—his mind raced; since when had they installed cameras in this corridor?—was trained directly on him. He sensed the animosity of the bureaucrats as they glared at him through the lens, a group of old men holed up in Langley with too many guns and too little conscience.

Steering the reporter before him, he forced his feet to move and started planning a new escape route.


	8. Terry

**Desh Bouksani's point of view in Ultimatum, during the fight scene. Word: Terry.**

* * *

He felt his life slipping away quickly, black patches beginning to obscure his vision. If he had been able to, he might have laughed.

Silly thing to be killed with, really, a washcloth.


	9. Exit

**Marie's point of view in Identity, deciding whether or not to stay with Jason. Word: Exit.**

* * *

Marie watched him stride away, considered her options.

She had the car; the keys dangled from the ignition. She had the thick stack of one hundred dollar bills in her purse.

She had an exit.

Why, then, did she feel as though she wanted to stay?

She needed, she decided, a drink. And if he came and went without her, well—that would be that.

* * *

**Author's note: Just to clarify for some of my readers who comment that the stories are very short--I'm trying to do these in 100 words or less. Trickier than it seems, but lots of fun.**


	10. Paint

**Marie's point of view, sometime in between Identity and Supremacy. Word: Paint.**

* * *

"Here." Marie gently pressed the paint set she had bought on a whim that day into his hands. "Maybe it will help you remember."

Jason accepted silently.

He worked all day and far into the night, tossing some attempts aside, shredding others. Finally, he found something and stilled, staring at the picture before him.

Marie peered over his shoulder and breathed, "Oh, Jason." It was beautifully crafted; she had not imagined such art was in him.

He remained silent, brooding and dark. His next words sent a shiver rippling down Marie's spine.

"I killed him."


	11. Comfortable

**Jason's point of view in Identity, during the bank scene. A note: since I know next to nothing about guns, please bear with me if I make any sort of mistake. Word: Comfortable.**

* * *

The gun's sleek cool weight, its shape, felt comfortable in his hand. Correct, familiar.

Just by holding it, he knew its caliber, that its clip was not quite full—careless of the guard, to fail to load his gun properly—that the recoil would be quick and forceful if he fired, that he could hit a mark twenty yards away with no problem.

Easy.

He disposed of it as soon as he could.


	12. Comfortable II

**Jason's point of view in Identity, going home. Word: Comfortable.**

* * *

The clothing in his closet, when he went to change out of the conspicuous, tattered brown sweater the fishermen had given him, had two things in common.

Dark. Nondescript.

Everything he owned was common, plain, an Everyman's wardrobe in subdued shades of grey and black.

And brown. Occasionally.

He slipped on a black and navy striped shirt and jeans, noticed that he finally felt comfortable.


	13. Trigger

**Marie's point of view, sometime in between Identity and Supremacy. Word: Trigger.**

* * *

Over time, Marie noticed that Jason had certain trigger words: "gun," "pursuit," "assignment." His entire body would tense, adopting that easy tautness that manifested itself whenever he felt threatened or excited. His head would snap up, blue eyes clear and intent with purpose—then he would realize it was only her. Relaxing, he would send her an apologetic glance and return to whatever he had been doing previously. 

Marie tried to avoid using such words as much as possible.


	14. Acquaint

**Jason's point of view in Identity, on the fishing boat. Word: Acquaint.**

* * *

As the days and the miles of ocean passed, the nameless man reacquainted himself with his body, his capabilities, his habits.

He, and they, were odd, eclectic. Impressive.

He was lean and well muscled; when bored or restless, he exercised—rigorously.

He had a meticulous knowledge of world events; upon waking, he momentarily expected to step outside, purchase a newspaper.

And he noticed everything. Tiny details: where the crewmen were, and what they were doing at all times; the boat's exact layout; where weapons could be found.

It frustrated him, knowing all of this, not knowing his own name.


	15. Blank II

**Jason's point of view. Word: Blank.**

* * *

There were so many blank spaces in his life that sometimes he felt as though the only defining quality about his identity was his complete lack of one. He did not know who his parents, siblings, friends were or where they lived, if they did. He did not even know his own age, his own birthday. He merely existed, a man named Jason Bourne who had a bank account in Zurich filled with millions of unexplained dollars, seven different passports, two cases of colored contacts, and a gun.

The blanks threatened to overwhelm him as he scrambled desperately for answers.


	16. Return

**Jason's point of view during Identity, in the apartment. Word: Return.**

* * *

"So it's all coming back, huh?" Marie's voice was casual, hopeful. 

Jason kept his eyes down, trained on the book in his hands.

He really wished people would stop asking that.


	17. Habit

**Marie's point of view. Word: Habit.**

* * *

"Jason, we're going to the beach," Marie said incredulously. Almost questioning.

Jason nodded, confused by her expression, hands hovering frozen above the bag he had been packing.

"You can't take a gun to the beach!" she exclaimed.

Looking down, he noticed the handgun he had been about to tuck into a pocket inside the bag. He grinned sheepishly, laid it aside, muttered, "Force of habit."

Later, Marie noticed that he had slipped not one, but two guns into the bag once she had left the room.


	18. Jazz

**Jason's point of view, sometime in between Identity and Supremacy. Word: Jazz.**

* * *

Somewhere in the twilit park, a band was playing a cover of a fairly obscure jazz song. A distinctive chord rang out, and Jason gasped, awash with sudden memory.

A frightened face pleaded for mercy in the middle of a richly decorated flat. In the background, a stereo played the same jazz song. Jason raised his gun, silencer affixed to the barrel, and fired.

The image deserted him as abruptly as it had come. Hands shoved him roughly away; he had staggered into a passerby.

Sweating, he muttered, "Excuse me," before rushing off to discover the song's title.


	19. Fluency

**Jason's point of view, sometime during Identity. Word: Fluency.**

* * *

He had always loved languages, even before the incident that had landed him in the ocean near Marseilles with several bullets in his back; he could sense it. The way the words formed in his mouth, the ease with which they slipped from his tongue, the simplicity of changing from one language to another. Excepting Marie, words were the only beautiful things he possessed. 


	20. Exit II

**Jason's point of view during Identity, when he leaves Marie in the car after the fight in the apartment. Word: Exit.**

* * *

He intentionally left her with an exit, left the keys hanging in the car's ignition. With a lump in his throat, he walked across the street into the station. He lingered there for several moments, giving her time to make her decision, perusing the train schedule. 

Just in case.


	21. Stab

**Jason's point of view. Word: Stab.**

* * *

Jason heard the gunshot in the distance; simultaneously, he felt a sudden sharp pain stab into his left shoulder, hurling him forward. He swore and lurched into a zigzag, stealing a glance over his shoulder.

His would-be shooter was not a policeman, as Jason had expected. But he recognized the dark hair, the stark face, the assassin's solid spread-foot stance. Then the police screamed into the scene and Jason took the opportunity to vanish.

His shoulder throbbed, a constant reminder that he had been lucky, so lucky, that the dark-haired man had missed the headshot.


	22. Collateral

**Kirill's point of view. Word: Collateral.**

* * *

Kirill, lining up the shot, immediately realized something was wrong—the driver's hair was long, bleached. The girl. 

He swore in disgust. Somehow they had managed to switch without him noticing. Their car was slowing; they thought they had eluded him and, in a way, they had.

Then he saw them continue toward the bridge and he swore again in delight. As he aimed, he felt a twinge of regret. Such a pretty girl—a shame. And then he squeezed the trigger.


	23. Comfortable III

**Castel's point of view. Word: Comfortable.**

* * *

Castel had never trained with Bourne; he had come later on in the program.

He had heard of him, of course, but he had never put much stock in the stories. They were all simply words, and Castel believed in action.

But when Bourne swept his feet out from underneath him—a dangerous thing to do during a fight, going to the ground with an unknown opponent—Castel realized that he was, in fact, dealing with the man from the stories.

And the man from the stories was as comfortable with fighting, and winning, as he was with breathing.


	24. Comfortable IV

**Marie's point of view. Word: Comfortable.**

* * *

Shocked and horrified, Marie stood, watched the two men exchange impossibly brutal blows.

Seeing a blade suddenly flash in the blonde assassin's hand, she cried in warning, "Jason!"

It was unnecessary. Jason had already noticed, was blocking his opponent's deadly swipes with ease. Casual. Firm-footed and relaxed, waiting for the man to come to him.

Utterly comfortable.


	25. Delta

**A note: This drabble ties into the books, so if you've not read them (which you should), it might not make sense. I'm not certain I like this one, but the dictionary told me this was the word, and I used it. That said,**

**Jason's point of view, sometime during his training. Word: Delta.**

* * *

"Your codename will be Delta," Doctor Hirsch informed him.

Bourne absorbed the information in customary silence, considering it. He rather liked the sound of it.


	26. Resonate

**Jason's point of view during Identity, in the bank in Zurich. Word: Resonate.**

* * *

There were so many passports: seven in total.

All different.

He felt a fluttering of panic deep within him. Who was he? Which name? How could he tell which one was true?

But: The first passport had pictured an American named Jason Bourne. He had repeated the name to himself; it had clicked into place somewhere inside him.

Jason Bourne. It had to be him.


	27. Water

**Jason's point of view during Ultimatum. Word: Water.**

* * *

Jason had never liked water, except to drink. He was a strong swimmer, but unless forced he preferred to avoid it. For a long time he assumed it was due to water's tendency to steal the most precious aspects of his life—his identity and his heart.

But now. Now he knew.


	28. Water II

**Jason's point of view during Ultimatum. Word: Water.**

* * *

Three times now water had saved his life, shielding, granting him a chance to escape, disappear undetected.

As he swam away from the building on 71st street, it occurred to him that he might have to reconsider his opinion of the stuff.


	29. Run

**Author's note: Well, my apologies about not posting yesterday, but fanfiction was being difficult and wouldn't let me log in. I'll throw in an extra today to make it up to anyone who cares.**

**Jason's point of view. Word: Run.**

* * *

Inspecting the huge array of dishes Marie had placed on the table, Jason told her, "You've outdone yourself." 

"Well, you know—our anniversary," she said.

"Yes, but really," he said in mock-suspicion, smiling. "Are you trying to fatten me up or something?"

Marie laughed. "How could I?" she responded, scooping a spoonful of rice onto her plate. "You're always running."

Jason's smile slid from his mouth.

True.


	30. Think

**Jason's point of view during Identity, just after he connects the dots and discovers he's an assassin. Word: Think.**

* * *

He had been outthinking enemies he did not even know he had, who were sent to kill him by shadowy individuals he could not locate. He had been thinking through all the unanswered, unanswerable questions about his identity, groping and sifting through nothing, with nothing, for any miniscule clue.

And he had found this: two newspaper articles in French, a hotel surrounded by prowling policemen, a woman he loved running horrified from him.

He did not want to think anymore.


	31. Direct

**Marie's point of view during Identity, trying to get into Eamon's house. Word: Direct.**

* * *

Marie reached under the familiar pot, fingers feeling for the key.

It was not there.

She glanced up at Jason, uncertain, unwilling to admit that she had been wrong, that she could not get them in. She tried a different pot.

There was a sudden bang, the noise of shoulder against wood. She straightened, brushed her hands off.

Well, he always had been direct.


	32. Water III

**A note: For my astute readers who notice everything, this does in fact take place before the other 'water' drabbles, so chronologically perhaps Jason's reaction doesn't make sense. My defense, weak as it may be, is that even before he guessed why he disliked water, before he knew exactly why he disliked water, he still disliked it nevertheless. Anyway.**

**Jason's point of view. Word: Water.**

* * *

One night, watching Marie curled up with a book in the armchair across the room, Jason realized that he had never discovered a vital piece of information about her.

"When is your birthday?"

Marie glanced up, brushed an errant piece of hair from her eyes, frowned distractedly at him. "February twentieth." She smiled slightly, then. "I'm a Pisces. But please, let's not discuss age—it's so depressing, and I—"

His laughter, startled out of him, interrupted her. Curious, she raised her eyebrows. Jason, breathless, asked, "Isn't Pisces a water sign?"


	33. Habit II

**Pamela Landy's point of view, post-Ultimatum. Word: Habit.**

* * *

"You still look tired, Pam. You should really go home and rest." Pamela Landy swore she could detect in his words the elements of his smile, swift and sweet. The line went dead before she could reply.

Her eyes raked the buildings across the street. Nothing. She fought off a headache, considered installing blinds.

She hoped Bourne was not planning to make this a habit.


	34. Clarify

**Noah Vosen's point of view. Word: Clarify.**

* * *

He stared at the computer screen, at the three bodies lying crumpled and still on the stairs, at the man gazing back at him through the camera lens. Unruffled. Unhurt.

Bourne.

Well, that explained a lot.


	35. Detail

**Jason's point of view during Identity, at Eamon's house. Word: Detail.**

* * *

The dog was missing, and he should not have been, because it was breakfast.

Such a trivial little detail, easy to overlook. But, simultaneously: It was so significant.

Jason straightened, uneasy, alert. Focused.

This was all his fault.

No time to explain. "Get everyone in the basement," he commanded.


	36. Price

**Nikki's point of view. Word: Price.**

* * *

Looking at his raw, bloodied hands, Jason appeared so guilt-ridden, burdened, that Nikki desperately wanted to comfort him.

I came into this with my eyes open, she wanted to say. It was my own fault.

Or: There is always a price. But he already knew that—it was for that knowledge that he now suffered.

She simply reached over, rested her hand on his. I understand, it said.

She only hoped that the price she would pay would not be too high.


	37. Strapless

**Marie's point of view. Word: Strapless.**

* * *

As nervous as a girl headed to her first dance, Marie inspected her reflection in the mirror a final time before heading out to meet Jason. He stood when she entered, looking elegant and trapped in his tuxedo. His gaze, intense and smoldering, increased her anxiety.

"I don't know if I did the alterations right." She spoke rapidly, burying her nerves with words. "I'm usually awful with a needle, you know me, but the straps just looked so frumpy that I couldn't—"

He cut her off with a long, dizzying kiss. Then he stepped back, whispered, "You are beautiful."


	38. Sword

**Dr. Albert Hirsch's point of view. Word: Sword.**

* * *

Doctor Hirsch scrutinized the volunteer before him. 

Captain in the Marines: good. He would be disciplined, obedient. Half-trained, physically.

Ordinary appearance: also good. His was a face that would blend easily—change the hair color, change the man. And the eyes: blue-grey. Perfect for using colored contacts; perfect for disguises.

Idealism: not as desirable. It was a double-edged sword, he knew. Easily exploited—the line about saving American lives would work on this one. But also risky; killing was not glorious or glamorous. Not for the weak or the romantic.

He weighed the options, decided he would keep this one.


	39. German

**Jason's point of view. Word: German.**

* * *

Of all the languages he knew, he thought German might be his favorite: a language of growls and guttural sophistication, of rage and unexplained pain.

A perfect match.


	40. Dance

**Jason's point of view, after Marie's death. Word: Dance.**

* * *

Jason liked to go to crowded places, choose a spot, observe. It was at those times that he felt like he was not the only one without an identity—no one had a name, a face there. Not in those multitudes. 

Tonight, impulsively, he had selected a club. He watched the anonymous mass undulate around him. A girl who had been eyeing him all evening finally gathered courage, approached.

"Do you dance?" The words were nearly swept away by the pounding music.

Jason considered.

"Yes." Tonight, he would not be Jason Bourne. He would simply be, another nameless face.


	41. Immobile

**Marie's point of view during Identity, in the apartment. Word: Immobile.**

* * *

"Where are your shoes? Get your shoes," Jason said quietly, evenly. As though he had not just been attacked. As though he had not just broken a man's arm and leg. As though a man had not just hurled himself from his flat's balcony.

Conversationally.

Marie muttered something; she might have agreed. But she could not move.

A man had just jumped out the window, and all Jason could think about were her shoes?


	42. Echo

**Jason's point of view during Ultimatum. Word: Echo.**

* * *

The man stood, waited. The gun trembled very faintly—his fingers were too tight around the grip. White-knuckled. Defensive.

Confused.

Jason gazed at him, searched for a way to phrase the response correctly. To fit an inexpressible idea to words.

And then the answer rose in his throat, as heavy as the shadow of the gallows: a dead man's final reflection three years and hundreds of miles ago.

"Look at us. Look at what they make you give."


	43. Confirmation

**Author's note: I'm terribly sorry for the delay (again!). I just moved into my dorm at college, though, so I reckon I do have a legitimate excuse. In any case:**

**Jason's point of view during Identity. Word: Confirmation.**

* * *

The man gestured at the computer screen. Hesitantly, Jason placed his hand on the screen, watched it scan him twice. The computer processed the data for a moment, beeped once, and flashed a green confirmation message. 

His heart pounded. It was not merely a confirmation of his ability to access an account. It was a confirmation of his identity, of his existence. It meant that he had been here before.

The man shifted aside, allowing him to proceed.


	44. Communicate

**John Nevins' point of view (the Naples security guard in Supremacy). Word: Communicate.**

* * *

The man was so deep within himself, a fortress, that John had to snap his fingers in front of his face to elicit any kind of response.

And then he simply sat there, stared at nothing, absorbing but not answering the questions. Uncommunicative.

John's phone rang. He turned away to answer it, did not notice the man's eyes suddenly focus attentively on his back.


	45. Feline

**Jason's point of view. Word: Feline.**

* * *

"Jason, you've been followed," Marie murmured from behind him.

He whipped around immediately, taut, furious with himself for endangering them. For endangering her. "Get away from door," he snapped, taking out his gun.

And stopped.

Something was missing from her expression. It was unconcerned, calm.

Amused?

"What?" he demanded, still anxious. Smiling faintly, she pointed to his feet. He looked down, saw a small white cat sitting beside his right boot.

Suddenly shaky, he did not know whether to laugh or frown.


	46. Feline II

**Marie's point of view. Word: Feline.**

* * *

Marie entered the room and halted in surprise. 

Finding him asleep was so rare; even at night, in bed, he waited for her to doze off first. Yet here he was, his long lean frame stretched out along the couch, the newspaper trailing onto the ground from limp fingertips.

The small white cat they had named Kitsky was curled up into a ball on his chest, purring contently as she slumbered.


	47. Say

**Jason's point of view during Identity. Word: Say.**

* * *

Suddenly, a pair of policemen rounded the corner, glanced into his face. He faltered over his next step as his entire body tensed instinctively. Rigid. Alert.

Now what did that say about him?


	48. Say II

**Jason's point of view during Identity. Word: Say.**

* * *

He stared at the newspaper in his hands, what it said. What it meant. Miserable, disgusted.

Resigned.

Somehow he had always known, deep inside of himself. His peculiar skills, his reactions, his thought process; what he was comfortable with, and what made him nervous—what else could he have been, honestly? Shipping? He almost laughed.

He had always known, yes, but that fact did nothing to assuage the bitterness of the confirmation.


	49. Question

**Paz's point of view (the Ultimatum assassin). Word: Question.**

* * *

He hurled the words at Bourne, desperate for an explanation. "Why didn't you take the shot?" Accusing. He should have taken it; by failing to execute him, Bourne had broken all the unspoken laws of victor and vanquished.

Bourne looked at him, a ghost of laughter, or perhaps pain, in his eyes.

When he responded, his voice was quiet, almost defeated. He asked, "Do you even know why you're supposed to kill me?"

Paz stared, wary, disconcerted.

Good question.


	50. Ghost

**Jason's point of view after Marie's death. Word: Ghost.**

* * *

He remembered the feeling well, from his time aboard the ship without a name: as if he were a ghost, trailing aimlessly, invisibly, through the world of men. Transparent, unfixed.

Marie had banished that sensation for him, but now she was gone. Stolen.

He had no one left to anchor him as flesh and bone and blood in this world, no one left to care whether or not he existed. And, slowly, Jason felt himself slipping back into that translucent state, treading along his path on spectral footsteps.


	51. Ghost II

**Simon Ross' point of view. Word: Ghost.**

* * *

He walked through the station, terrified, noticing ghosts of threats everywhere—eyes watching his movements, footsteps following half a step behind. Bourne's voice reassured, told him he was on a good track. Keep going.

But: A janitor approached, stared at him with baleful eyes, reached for something—a gun?—on his cart.

Bourne yelled at him urgently, but the words did not make sense, did not connect in his head. He was no seasoned, trained assassin; he doubted he could even defend himself in a fight, if it came to that.

He could not help it.

He bolted.


	52. Instinctual

**Jason's point of view during Identity, fleeing the embassy. Word: Instinctual.**

* * *

He moved by instinct, stride long, purposeful, confident. He wasted no resources, no energy as he fled the pursuing guards. He took what he needed, used anything on hand that helped.

Only after he had jumped down the last stretch of wall outside the bank, dusted himself off, and picked up his bag did he realize the full implications of what he had done.

What he was capable of.


	53. Savor

**Desh Bouksani's point of view. Word: Savor.**

* * *

He watched her over the heads of the crowd: the distinctive hair bobbing along a few feet in front of him. Frantic, panicked.

He imagined the sweat that must be starting to trickle across her skin, the goose bumps that must be trailing down her spine. The dilation of her pupils as she glanced back and saw him following, stride long and measured, intent on death.

It was almost too easy, he thought as he prowled after her. Almost too cruel. Yet, at that moment, he enjoyed it: the feeling of power, of purpose.

Almost.


	54. Instinctual II

**Jason's point of view during Identity, in the apartment. Word: Instinctual.**

* * *

Something was wrong. Very wrong. His instincts jangled with the knowledge of that fact.

Jason put the phone down, all senses sharply attuned in an attempt to divine some noise, some disruption of air in the flat that did not belong. Marie's voice, calling from the bathroom, seemed much too loud.

Maintaining the ruse of normalcy, he turned on the water in the kitchen, selected a knife, threatened emptiness and sunlight as he prowled through the rooms.

Something was wrong, and he would find it or he would die. He knew that instinctually.


	55. Energy

**Jason's point of view in Identity, during the hotel scene. Word: Energy.**

* * *

Jason made a soft noise, tried to step around her, found his way blocked. Marie, a curious gleam in her eyes, leaned in to brush his lips with her own. A butterfly feeling—light, fleeting.

He frowned, confused. Inspected her face; what did she want him to do?

She kissed him again: softly coaxing.

A torrent of energy pulsed through him, and very suddenly, he understood.


	56. Incredulous

**Paris police's point of view. Word: Incredulous.**

* * *

The small group of policemen milled around the car, searched the bags that had been found in the trunk. Reported the bad news.

"You've been here three hours and you still can't find a print?" the commanding officer demanded.

"Not even a partial," someone confirmed. Hopeless. "There's nothing here, sir."

He could not believe it. How could anyone have managed to wipe the vehicle down so thoroughly?


	57. Bird

**Jason's point of view. Word: Bird.**

* * *

A shadow glided over him, obscuring the sun for an instant. Jason looked up in time to observe a bird flying past overhead, wings stretched wide to capture air currents. It spiraled once, lazily, a dark crooked line against sky and meadow, and then continued its journey.

He watched it go, envious. So much freedom there.


	58. Crimson

**Jason's point of view in Identity, riding with Marie into Paris. Word: Crimson.**

* * *

"What's your favorite color?" Marie queried.

It had been her idea: playing a game to pass the time and the miles. To see how much he knew about himself.

"Red," he replied. Unthinking.

He looked away quickly, watched the surroundings blur past.

Marie noticed. "What?" she laughed. "What's so wrong about red? That's the first straight answer you've been able to give me."

"It's nothing," he mumbled. "Never mind." He turned toward her to smile weakly, reassuringly.

In the wintry, watery afternoon sunlight, her hair glowed a deep rich red.


	59. Run II

**Jason's point of view in Ultimatum, persuing Paz through the station. Word: Run.**

* * *

He hated running like this, through a very crowded public terminal, with a body bleeding on the floor behind him. It drew too much attention, marked him as a suspect.

But at the same time, he had to. He had to catch the killer who had, in one fleeting second, stolen all of his answers. Abandoned him, once again, to anonymity.


	60. Incredulous II

**Noah Vosen's point of view. Word: Incredulous.**

* * *

"Uh, sir, he drove off the roof," the voice on the other end of the line stated matter-of-factly.

"What?" he yelled. Incredulous.

No one could be that stupid.


	61. Floored

**Jason's point of view in Identity, working out sleeping arrangements at Eamon's house. Word: Floored.**

* * *

Jason did not miss the short glance Marie threw at him as the door closed behind Eamon. She did not want to sleep in the bed beside him. Beside a killer.

Who could blame her?

"I'll sleep on the floor," he muttered, tone clipped, and turned to lay down on the rug at the foot of the bed.

She did not offer him a blanket.


	62. Unnerve

**Paz's point of view. Word: Unnerve.**

* * *

Paz stirred, spat blood. Dazed, unable to summon enough energy to pick his head up from the steering wheel, he turned his head.

And stared into the eyes of the other man—Bourne, was that his name?—and the gleaming deadly barrel of the gun he held, trained on Paz's head.

He exhaled: failure. He accepted the inevitable consequence; waited for the gunshot to ring out.

It never came.

Instead, Bourne took a ragged breath, put the gun away, and vanished.

Why?


	63. Routine

**Jason's point of view in Identity, during his time on the fishermen's boat. Word: Routine.**

* * *

He was simply tinkering with the materials he had unearthed from the kitchen's junk drawer, absently, hands moving without any conscious direction. Routine.

A crewman—the former Navy sailor, he remembered—wandered in to retrieve a drink, watched for an instant, shouted an expletive.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, snatching the jumble of odds and ends from the nameless man's fingers.

"I don't know," the man replied, puzzled. "What is it?"

Dismantling the tangled mess carefully, the crewman paused, stared at him. "You're bloody serious, aren't you?"

Silence.

Tersely: "It was a bomb."


	64. Mix

**Eamon's point of view, after the meadow scene. Word: Mix.**

* * *

Eamon drove away from his house, from the still-smoking remnants of the gas tank, from the solitary dark figure in the rearview mirror as fast as he could.

This beat every odd thing Marie had said or done, every odd personality quirk she had. And that included the time she had inexplicably walked out on him for two days, returning with a frown, a tattoo, and a dilapidated old Mini-Cooper.

"What the hell have you gotten yourself mixed up in this time, Marie?" he demanded.

In the backseat, Marie merely shrugged.


	65. Think II

**Jason's point of view, during training. Word: Think.**

* * *

"I don't think I can, sir," Bourne muttered. Uneasy. In the corner of his vision, he could see the man marked for execution. The hood upset him, vaguely; he wished he could look into the man's face.

Barely had the words escaped him before Hirsch leaned down and spoke calmly, forcefully into his ear. "You don't think? That's right, son, you don't. We think for you. It is not a matter of thinking for you—not anymore. You are here to do. Understand?"

He did. And he did.

* * *

**Author's note: My dear and glorious readers, I am very sad to announced that this marks the end of the Bourne drabbles for the time being. I'll still write them, hopefully (I have a few more ideas floating around), but not with the same regularity. Thank you so much for all of your support, observations, thoughtfulness, compliments, and just general awesomeness.**


	66. Safeguard

**Author's note: Ah, it's been a long time. But! I have at least this one little drabble to offer you. And...I'm going to be watching the movies over again (all three!), so perhaps more will follow. Sorry it's been too long; that said,**

**Jason's point of view, during any of the time (pre-Identity or post-Supremacy) that he is not with Marie. Word: Safeguard.**

* * *

"Here is your room, Herr Bourne—third floor, no balcony, as you requested," the landlord murmured, opening the door. 

Jason stepped inside, looked at the beautiful expansive room, the extensive panels of glass, tinted gold with afternoon sunlight. Felt queasy.

"Thank you," he heard himself respond quietly. The man nodded courteously and turned to leave.

"Please—before you go," Jason said, forcing his gaze from the windows. The landlord stopped, glanced back questioningly. He kept his face as blank as possible, his tone polite. Unconcerned. "Could you tell me where I might buy curtains?"


	67. Fugitive

**The Moscow policeman's point of view in Ultimatum, facing Jason in the pharmacy. Word: Fugitive.**

* * *

Ilia had witnessed the wreckage this man had wrought outside: smashed cars, confusion. A body.

And now his gun was trained on Ilia, Ilia's partner at his feet, silent but still alive, he thought. Hoped.

He had a wife, a daughter. He did not want to die here, simply because he had interfered. So he begged.

"Don't shoot. I'm unarmed."

He flinched when the man destroyed his radio, tried again. "Please don't kill me."

Agonizing silence.

Then: "My argument is not with you," the fugitive intoned, his Russian impeccable. And, with those enigmatic words, he lowered his gun, limped away.


	68. Coffee

**Jason's point of view, after the dust has settled from the events of Ultimatum. Word: Coffee.**

* * *

Jason picked up the cup of coffee he had not asked for, turned it around and around in his hands. The other people in the tiny café bustled and chattered. Alive. Vibrant. Cheery.

He sighed, set the mug down, wondered.

It was over: the chase, the hunt. But—

As awful as it had been, it had given him an odd sense of purpose. A reason.

Now it was over, and he had nowhere to go. Nothing to do.


	69. Quietude

**Jason's point of view, pre-Identity, after one of his missions. Word: Quietude.**

* * *

He ascended the stairs slowly, deliberately, silently. The room, when he entered, glowed a delicate moonstone-grey with twilight. Beyond the drawn curtains came the rich gaudy glare of headlights, flaring and receding in intermittent streams of gold or blood. 

He sat down on the lone chair in the middle of the floor. Gradually, the pulsing ache behind his eyes began to subside.

He remained there for a long time, not thinking, but simply breathing.

He had always loved the feeling of this empty room.


	70. Enough

**Jason's point of view, in the waves before the fishermen find him. Word: Enough.**

* * *

He felt the icy fingers of the ocean grasp at his limbs, pull and tug him randomly across the surface. His back ached, a fiery counterpoint to the chill of the water. He could not focus, could not remember anything beyond this great vast expanse of sea.

He closed his eyes, wished the water would absorb him. He had had enough.

Enough.


	71. Pharmacy

**Jason's point of view, in Moscow at the beginning of Ultimatum. Word: Pharmacy.**

* * *

Jason peered around the corner, watched the police rush past, the throbbing pulse of the sirens' sound and light ricocheting off of the surrounding buildings. Across the street, he glimpsed a flare of bright green: a pharmacy.

He flexed his hand against the stiffness of the dried blood that had run down his arm, his fingers, and breathed a sigh of temporary relief.

Saved—for the moment.


End file.
